Maybe I dreamt that

For whatever reason, our home survived toddlers and young children very well. Maybe it had something to do with meals at the table, boring dry snacks and sippy cups beyond the recommended age, but hey, nobody was terribly unhappy or malnourished. My fabulous organization skills (yes, let's call it that), helped to make sure the toys kept all of their pieces. We were certainly not "never removed from box" folks, but Polly Pocket and the Littlest Pets, as well as numerous Playmobil sets are still fairly complete.

When we got puppies a few years ago, I was unprepared for the disruption to my surroundings. I was not well educated in how to best get a stain off the rug, or cope with damage to a wall. I did understand that the dogs were not concerned with the value of their own toys, or any others that crossed their paths. I was able to keep the dogs out of the areas of our home that I did not want to have to police them in.

The children, on the other hand, continued to roam free. They also apparently got their own ideas about acceptable snacks and beverage containers, as well as when and where these breaks should occur. Nothing completely unreasonable seemed to be going on, and meals are still at the table where gravity defied them and their clothing on a nearly nightly basis. Recently, however, I have found myself having to utter phrases for the first time. Things like "Are these spots on the couch melted chocolate?" "What is this on the rug?" and general inquiries into who left the whatever wherever.

As I sat down last night, I saw a spot on the ottoman. The daughter mentioned that she had gotten a bloody nose, and I guess I was impressed that the only trace was the one spot. I can't quite fathom the route she took from the couch to the tissues, but she is a champion veteran with the bloody nose thing.

OK, so here is the part I might've dreamt, and will have to wait for more personnel to wake up to confirm...I am fairly certain I fell asleep in bed at around 11:30 last night. At 11:40 my husband was in our bedroom doorway possibly telling me that he killed a mosquito and there was blood on the couch. When I groggily mentioned that there was already a bloody nose spot on the furniture, I believe he inquired as to what he should try to clean the mosquito issue with. As I tried to fathom the size of the bug and how many pints of blood we were talking about, I suggested soap and a dish towel, dishcloth, washcloth...holy moly find the word in your sleep already woman!

I am sitting on the couch now unsure if I am poised between yummy melted chocolate or Type A positive. I see that no magic potions were applied to the ottoman, so that part of the evening really happened. I hear cereal being munched behind me in the kitchen, so I guess the suspense ends here...the inquiry...a slight snicker...

Skeeter Beater: I did that.

Me: Had you lost your mind?

SB: You hadn't gone to bed long before so I figured I would go check, and ask you if you were awake.

Me: But I WAS asleep

SB: But you popped your eyes open

Me: Yes, because I thought there was a child with an actual issue coming to the door.

Will he never understand momsleep (or lack thereof)? Some days I think I am sad that we didn't have three children. Most days I realize that I do.

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